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THE VOLLAND EDITION . 


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MOTHE 

GOOS 

THE 

VOLLAND iMJ EDITION 


y\rrarxcjeoi and Edited by 

EULAL1E OSGOOD GROVER 

lllastrated by 

FREDERICK RICHARDSON 



Published by 

P. F .VOL LAN D & CO. 

CHICAGO TORONTO 


NEW YORK 


73 



Dedicated by the 
Compiler and Artist 
to 

VIRGINIA and DORIS 
and their mother, 
the inspiration of the publisher 



©CU-1 10897 


OCT -71915 
~M> | 


A FOREWORD 


Children, as well as their interested parents, will eagerly welcome 
this beautiful edition of the one great nursery classic, just as a 
worthy edition of Shakespeare is welcomed by discriminating adult 
readers. 

But some may ask what there is in these simple melodies, 
attributed to Mother Goose, which gives them so secure and beloved 
a place in the home, the school and the public library. Is it the 
humor, the action, the rhythm, or the mystery of the theme which 
appeals so strongly to critical little minds in each generation of 
childhood, and even to adult minds so fortunate as to have retained 
some of the refreshing naivete of early years? 

It is useless to try to explain the charm of these nonsense melo- 
dies. The children themselves do not know why they love them. 
No mother can tell us the magic of the spell which seems to be cast 
over her restless baby as she croons to it a Mother Goose lullaby. 
No primary teacher quite understands why the mere repetition or 
singing of a Mother Goose jingle will transform her listless, inatten- 
tive class into one all eagerness and attention. But mother and 
teacher agree that the best of these verses have an even more potent 
influence than that of innocently diverting and entertaining the child. 
The healthy moral, so subtly suggested in many of the rhymes, is 
unconsciously absorbed by the child's receptive mind, helping him 
to make his own distinction between right and wrong, bravery and 
cowardice, generosity and selfishness. 

From a literary standpoint, also, these rhymes have proved of 
real value in creating a taste for the truly musical in: poetry and song. 
They train the ear and stir the imagination of the child as no other 
verses do. Many famous poets and writers trace their first inspira- 
tion, and love for things literary, back to the nursery songs and fairy 
tales of their childhood. 




Teachers well know that children who have reveled In these 
rhymes and stories, at the time of their strongest appeal, step 
naturally and appreciatively into the great fields of good literature 
which are beyond. 




Knowing these things to be true, we do not hesitate to place this 
venerable classic on the shelf beside our Shakespeare, and to send 
our children there for delight and inspiration. They will understand 
Shakespeare the better for having known and loved Mother Goose. 

But what about the personality of this classic writer? Was she 
really Mistress Elizabeth Goose who is said to have lived in Boston 
about two hundred years ago, and who crooned her nonsense jingles 
to a large and happy family of grandchildren? We are told that 
their father, Thomas Fleet, who was a printer by trade, thought to 
turn an honest penny with his mother-in-law s popular verses, so he 
published them in a small volume under the title of “Songs for the 
Nursery: or. Mother Goose's Melodies.'' A goose with a very long 
neck and a wide-open mouth flew across the title page, at least so 
the story goes. But we have to believe that it is only a story, for 
no copy of the book can be found, and nothing but tradition 
identifies Elizabeth Goose, the Boston grandmother, with the famous 
rhymester. 

We might feel sorry to be obliged to discredit this picturesque 
story of Mother Goose, if her real history were not even more mys- 
terious. We know very little about the beloved patron of childhood, 
but what we do know is as follows : 

Mother Goose is most certainly of respectable French origin, for 
in 1697 a distinguished French writer, Charles Perrault, published 
in Pans a little book of familiar stories called “Contes de ma Mere 
rOye,” or “Tales of My Mother Goose.” Her identity, however, 
he leaves a mystery, except that in the frontispiece of his book is 
pictured an old woman by her fireside telling stories to an eager 
little family group. 

This volume contained the only prose tales that have ever been 
credited to Mother Goose, and they are still among the most popular 








stories in nursery or school room. The titles are as follows : “Little 
Red Riding Hood;’’ “The Sisters Who Dropped From Their Mouths 
Diamonds and Toads;” “Bluebeard;” “The Sleeping Beauty ;” “Puss 
m Boots: “Cinderella;” “Riquet With the Tuft;” and “Tom Thumb.' 

It is through her verses, however, that Mother Goose has won her 
well-deserved fame. The first collection under her name was pub- 
lished in London about 1765 by John Newbery. It may be, if Oliver 
Goldsmith were living, he could tell us more about the origin of these 
verses than we are now ever likely to know. It is more than 
probable that he himself edited the little volume for John Newbery, 
and that he wrote the clever preface, “By a very Great Writer of 
very Little Books,” as well as the quaint moral which supplements 
each rhyme. 

About twenty-five years later this book was reprinted in our 
country by Isaiah Thomas of Worcester, Massachusetts. Several 
copies of this edition are preserved, one of which has been photo- 
graphed and reproduced in facsimile by W. H. Whitmore of Boston. 
Other publishers also reprinted the English edition, one being done 
for John Newbery's grandson, Francis Power, in 1791. 

In 1810 another collection of melodies appeared under the title 
of “Gammer Gurton's Garland.” It was quite evidently a rival of 
Mother Goose, though it contained nearly all of her verses, besides 
many far less interesting ones gathered from other sources. 

Gammer Gurton's popularity, however, was short, and Mother 
Goose was revived about 1825 by a Boston firm, Munroe and Francis. 
Since that time her fame has never waned. In spite of the present 
multiplicity of beautiful books for children, they are constantly ex- 
hausting large editions of the one universally beloved book of melo- 
dies. Some of these volumes have been collected and edited by 
men of the highest literary judgment and ability, such as Goldsmith 
(with hardly a doubt), Ritson, Halliwell, Andrew Lang, Charles Eliot 
Norton, Charles Welsh and Edward Everett Hale. Certainly there is 
not another collection of juvenile literature which can boast such a 
list of scholarly editors. The deepest gratitude is due them for their 







careful and discriminating effort to preserve for the children of future 
generations this rich heritage of nursery melodies. 

Many less discriminating editors, however, have ruthlessly mutil- 
ated and adapted many of the rhymes to suit their fancy, thinking, 
possibly, that as Mother Goose is only a title, the verses attributed to 
her belong to the general public to use as it sees fit. On the 
contrary. Mother Goose s melodies belong to the children, and no 
addition or change should be made except by those who are in such 
close sympathy with the child-heart that they may act with the child ^ 
authority. 

This present edition of “Mother Goose” preserves the best of 
the verses which became so popular in England and America as to 
first demand their publication. It is the only truly classic edition 
that has been published in modern times. The two authorities 
which have been followed are the edition published for John New- 
bery s grandson in London in 1791, and probably edited by Oliver 
Goldsmith, and the edition published in Boston in 1833 by Munroe 
and Francis, called “The Only True Mother Goose Melodies.” It 
is from this copy that the following quaint introduction by “Ma'am 
Goose” is quoted. 

Not all the favorites among the nursery rhymes are here, only 
those that first helped to make the fame of the fictitious but no less 
worthy patron of childhood. May her fame and her melodies be 
lovingly preserved to give joy and inspiration to many future gener- 
ations of little children. 


EULALIE OSGOOD GROVER 



Hear What Ma am Goose Says ! 


My d ear little Blossoms, there are now in this world, and always 
will he, a great many grannies heside myself, hoth in petticoats and 
pantaloons, some a deal younger, to be sure, but all monstrous wise 
and of my own family name. These old women, who never had 
chick or child of their own, but who always know hew to bring up 
other people s children, will tell you with long faces that my enchant- 
ing, quieting, soothing volume, my all-sufficient anodyne for cross, 
peevish, won t- be -comforted little bairns, ought be laid aside for 
more learned books, such as they could select and publish. Fudge! 
I tell you that all their batterings can t deface my beauties, nor 
their wise pratings equal my wiser prattlings ; and all imitators of 
my refreshing songs might as well write another Billy Shakespeare 
as another Mother Goose — we two great poets were born together, 
and shall go out of the world together. 

No , no, my melodies will never die. 

While nurses sing, or babies cry. 




prom 44 The Only True Mother Goose Melodies, 
Published by Muiroe & Francis , Boston, 1833 


Gc.F.V.4 CO. 




©P.F V.A CO. 




Op.F.V.4 CO. 







Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater. 

Had a wife and couldn't keep her; 
He put her in a pumpkin shell. 
And then he kept her very well. 

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater. 

Had another, and didn t love her; 
Peter learned to read and spell. 
And then he loved her very well. 





Lady-bird, Lady •bird. 
Fly away Lome, 

Your Louse is on fire. 
Your children will burn. 


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One misty, moisty morning, 

When cloudy was the weather, 

I chanced to meet an old man clothed all m leather. 
He began to compliment, and I began to grin. 

How do you do, and how do you do? 

And how do you do again? 



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I like little pussy, her coat is so warm. 

And if I don t hurt her she 11 do me no harm ; 
So I 11 not pull h er tail, nor drive her away, 
But pussy and I very gently will play. 


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And can t tell where to find them ; 

Leave them alone, and they'll come home. 
And bring their tails behind them. 





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Pretty John Watts, 

We are troubled with rats. 

Will you drive them out of the house 
We have mice, too, in plenty. 

That feast in the pantry. 

But let them stay 
And nibble away. 

What harm in a little brown mouse? 




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About Mary Morey, 

And now my story s begun 
I 11 tell you another 
About ber brother. 

And now my story’s done. 




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rlush-a-bye, .baby, upon the tree top. 
When the wind blows the cradle will rc 
When the hough breaks the cradle will 
Down tumbles cradle and Baby and all. 


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Dickery, dickery, dock. 

The mouse ran up the clock; 
The clock struck one. 

The mouse ran down, 
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Hickety, pickety, my black ben, 

Sbe lays eggs for gentlemen: 
Gentlemen come every day 
To see wbat my black ben dotb lay. 








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Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town. 

Upstairs and downstairs, m his nightgown; 

Tapping at the window, crying at the lock: 

Are the habes m their beds, for it's now ten o’clock? 



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She had so many children she didn t know what to do. 
She gave them some broth without any bread. 

She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed. 



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I here was a man and he had naug[ 
And robbers came to rob bim; 
He crept up to the chimney top. 

And th en they thought they had 1 
But he got down on the other side. 
And then they could not hnd him 
He ran fourteen miles in fifteen day 


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And he had a calf. 

And that s half; 

He took him out of the stall. 
And put him on the wall. 
And that s all. 



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There was an old woman lived under the Kill, 
And if she s not gone she lives there still. 
Baked apples she sold, and cranberry pies. 
And she s the old woman that never told lies. 


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Going to the fair; 

Says Simple Simon to the pieman 
“Pray let me taste your ware. 


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Sing a song of sixpence, a Lag full of rye. 

Four and twenty LlackLirds baked in a pie; 

WLen tbe pie was opened tbe birds began to sing. 
And wasn t tbis a dainty disk to set before tke king ? 
Tke king was in tke parlor counting out kis money; 
Tke queen was in tke kitcken eating bread and koney; 
Tke maid was in tke garden kangmg out tke clotkes, 
Tkere came a little blackbird and nipped off ker nose. 





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Ride a cock horse 
To Banhury Cross 
To see what Tommy can huy: 
A penny white loaf, 

A penny white cake. 

And a two-penny apple pie. 





Little Miss Muffet 
Sat on a tuffet. 

Eating some curds and whey; 
There came a great spider. 

And sat down beside her. 

And frightened Miss Muffet away 


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There were two birds sat upon a stone, 

Fal de ral— al de ral— laddy. 

One flew away and then there was one, 

Fal de ral— al de ral— laddy. 

The other flew after and then there was none, 
Fal de ral— al de ral— laddy. 

So the poor stone was left all alone, 

Fal de ral— al de ral-laddy. 

One of these little birds back again flew, 

Fal de ral-al de ral-laddy. 

The other came after and then there were two, 
Fal de ral — al de ral-laddy. 

Says one to the other: '“’Pray, how do you do? 

Fal de ral-al de ral-laddy. 

Very well, thank you, and pray how are you?’’ 
Fal de ral— al de ral-laddy. 


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Bye, Baby bunting. 

Father's gone a-hunting. 

Mother's gone a-milking. 

Sister s gone a-silking. 

And Brother s gone to buy a skin 
To wrap the Baby bunting in. 








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Tom, Tom, the piper s son. 

Stole a pig, and away he run; 

The pig was eat. 

And Tom was beat. 

And Tom ran crying down the street. 


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To fetch a pail of water; 
ck fell down and broke his crown 
And Jill came tumbling after. 


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The sheep s in the meadow, the cow's in the corn. 
What! Is this the way you mind your sheep. 
Under the haycock fast asleep? 




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Uld woman, old woman, old woman. 
Whither, ah whither, ah whither so I 
To sweep the cobwebs from the sky, 
And I 11 be with you by and by. 


There was an old woman tossed in a blanket 
Seventeen times as high as the moon; 

But where she was going no mortal could tell. 
For under her arm she carried a broom. 



Cold and raw the north winds blow 
Bleak in the morning early. 

All the hills are covered with snow. 
And winter s now come fairly. 




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©P.F.V.A CO. 







Lucy Locket lost her pocket, 
Kitty Fisher found it; 

There was not a penny in it. 
But a nhhon round it. 



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©P.F.V.A CO. 



©P.F.V.4 CO. 





To bed, to bed, says Sleepy-Head; 

“Let s stay awbile, says Slow; 
Put on tbe pot,'' says Greedy-Sot, 
-We'll sup before we go. 


©P.F.V.& CO 









Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son Jokn, 
Went to ted with Ins kreeckes on, 

One stocking off, and one stocking on. 
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son Jokn. 


P.F.V.A co. 







High diddle diddle. 



The cat and the fiddle. 

The cow jumped over the moon 
The little dog laughed 
To see such craft. 

And the dish ran away with the 



spoon. 



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©P.F.V.A CO. 



Robin and Richard 

Were two pretty men; 

Tbey stayed in bed 

Till tbe clock struck ten. 

Tben up starts Robin 
And looks at tbe sky: 

Ob, brother Rickard, 

Tbe sun s very bigb. 

You go before 

Witb tbe bottle and bag. 

And I will come after 
On little Jack nag. ’ 









©P.F.V.& CO. 




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When I was a little boy I lived by myself. 

And all tbe bread and cbeese I got I put upon a sbelf; 
Tbe rats and tbe mice, they made suck a strife, 

I was forced to go to London to buy me a wife. 

Tbe streets were so broad and tbe lanes were so narrow, 
I was forced to bring my wife borne in a wheelbarrow; 
Tbe wheelbarrow broke and my wife bad a fall, 

And down came tbe wheelbarrow, wife and all. 





©P.F.V.A CO. 






Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, 

Humpty Dumpty liad a great fall; 

All tlie king s horses and all the king s men 
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again. 



©P.F.V.A CO 






Miss Jane had a bag and a mouse was in it; 

Sbe opened tbe bag, be was out in a minute. 

Tbe cat saw bim jump and run under tbe table. 

And tbe dog said: “Catcb bim, Puss, soon as you re able.” 





Goosey, goosey, gander, where dost thou wander? 
Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady s chamber; 
There I met an old man that wouldn t say his prayers 
I took him by his hind legs and threw him downstairs 




See saw, Margery Daw, 

Jacky shall have a new master: 
Jacky must have hut a penny a (day 
Because he can work no faster. 


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©P.F.V.A CO. 




Cock, cock, cock, cock, 

I ve laid an egg. 

Am I to gang ba-are-foot ? 


I’ve been up and down 
To every sbop in town. 
And cannot find a sboe 
To fit your foot. 

If I'd crow my bea-art out, 






The lion and the unicorn 

Were fighting for the crown. 
The lion heat the unicorn 
All about the town. 

Some gave them white bread. 
And some gave them hrown 
Some gave them plum-cake. 
And sent them out of town. 




Old King Cole 
Was a merry old soul. 

And a merry old soul was lie; 

He called for his pipe. 

And lie called for lus bowl. 

And lie called foi 1 his fiddlers three. 



Mistress Mary, quite contrary. 
How does your garden grow? 
With silver bells and cockle shells 
And pretty maids all in a row. 




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Bonny lass, pretty lass, 

Wilt tliou be mine? 

Tbou sbalt not wasb dishes 
Nor yet serve the swine. 
Tliou sbalt sit on a cushion 




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©P.F.V.A CO. 










TKis pig went to market. 

That pig stayed at home; 

This pig had roast meat, 

That pig had none; 

This pig went to the harn door. 
And cried '’’’week, week,” for more 





here were two blackbirds sitting on a hill 
*ne named Jack and the other named Jill, 
ly away. Jack! Fly away, Jill! 
ome again. Jack! Come again, Jill! 


©P.F.V.A CO. 


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Pease-porridge hot 
Pease-porridg 
Pease-porridge 1 
Nine days old 
Spell me that in 

I will: THAT 


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Polly, put tKe kettle on, 
Polly, put tke kettle on, 
Polly, put tke kettle on. 
We 11 all kave tea. 
Sukey, take it off again, 
Sukey, take it off again, 
Sukey, take it off again, 
Tkey re all gone away. 








Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree. 

Up went the Pussy-Cat, and down went he, 

Down came Pussy-Cat, away Robin ran; 

Says little Robin Redbreast: “Catch me if you can!'' 


Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a spade, 

Pussy-Cat jumped after him, and then he was afraid. 
Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did Pussy say? 
Pussy-Cat said : “Mew, mew, mew, ' and Robin flew away 




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There was an old woman 
Sold puddings and pies; 
She went to the mill. 

And dust flew m her eyes. 
While through the streets. 

To all she meets 
She ever cries: 

'"‘Hot Pies— Hot Pies. 





Old woman, old woman, shall we go a-sheanng? 
Speak a little louder, sir, I m very thick o hearing 
Old woman, old woman, shall I kiss you dearly? 
Thank vou. kind sir. I hear very clearly. 




&r.r v.« co. 



My little old man and I fell out; 
1 11 tell you what twas all about: 
I had money and he had none. 



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Jack Sprat could eat no fat. 

His wife could eat no lean; 

So twixt them hoth they cleared the cloth 
And licked the platter clean. 







©P.F.V.A CO. 







There was a pip 
And he had n 
He pulled out h 
And bade th 


d her a tune 


e cow consi 


le cow considered very well. 
And gave the piper a penny, 

the other tune 


id bade him play 
Corn rigs are honny 





The man in tlie wilderness 


Flow many strawberries 
Grew in the sea. 

I answered him 

As I thought good. 

As many red herrings 
As grew in the wood. 


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Hark! Hark! 

The dogs do hark, 
beggars are coming to 
Some in rags. 

Some in tags, 
some in velvet gown. 




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©p.r.v.i co. 




As 1 was going to St. Ives 
I met seven wives. 

Every wife had seven sacks. 

Every sack liad seven cats. 

Every cat had seven kits. 

Kits, cats, sacks and wives, 

many were going to St. Ives 


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I had a little husband no bigger than my thumb, 

I put him in a pint pot, and there I bid him drum; 

I bought a little handkerchief to wjpe his little nose. 
And a pair of little garters to tie his little hose. 




©P.r.v.. 



©P.F.V.A CO. 





Bat, bat. 

Come under my bat. 

An d 1 11 give you a slice of bacon; 
And when I bake 
1 11 give you a cake. 

If I am not mistaken. 




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©P.F.V.4 






There was a little boy went into a barn 
And lay down on some bay; 

A calf came out and smelled about. 

And tbe little boy ran away. 


©P.r.,.. 




“Jacky, come give me your fiddle. 
If ever you mean to thrive. 
“Nay, 1 11 not give my fiddle 
To any man alive. 


If I should give my fiddle 

They 11 think that I m gone mad. 
For many a joyful day 

My fiddle and I have had. 


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©P.F.V.A CO 




©P.r .V.A CO. 


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”You owe me five shillings,” 
Say the hells of St. Helen s. 

When will you pay me?” 

Say the hells of Old Bailey. 

‘ When I grow rich,” 

Say the hells of Shoreditch. 

“When will that he?” 

Say the hells of Stepney. 

“I do not know. 

Says the great Bell of Bow. 

“Two sticks in an apple. 

Ring the hells of Whitechapel. 

“Halfpence and farthings. 

Say the hells of St. Martin s. 

“Kettles and pans. 

Say the hells of St. Ann s. 

“Brickbats and tiles. 

Say the bells of St. Giles. 

“Old shoes and slippers. 

Say the bells of St. Peter s. 

“Pokers and tongs. 

Say the hells of St. John s. 


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There was a man in our own. 

And he was wondrc s wise. 

He jumped into a bramble-bush. 
And scratched out both his eyes; 
And when he saw his eyes were out. 
With all his might and main 
He juiupcd into another IdusIi 
And scratched them in again. 


©P.F.V.A CO 



INDEX 

(ARRANGED IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE) 


Old Mother Goose, when she wanted to wander. 
Cock-a-doodle doo. 

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater. 

Lady-bird, Lady-bird. 

One misty, moisty morning. 

I like little pussy, her coat is so warm. 

Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep. 

Little Nanny Etticoat. 

Jack, be nimble; Jack, be quick. 

Pretty John Watts. 

I'll tell you a story. 

Hush-a-bye, Baby, upon the tree top. 

Ride away, ride away. 

Dickery, Dickery, dock. 

A, B, C, D, E, F, G. 

The little robin grieves. 

Little Tommy Tittlemouse. 

About the bush, Willie, about the bee-hive. 

Bah, bah, black sheep. 

Hickety, pickety, my, black hen. 

Willie boy, Willie boy. 

Three children sliding on the ice. 

Wee Willie Wink le runs through the town. 

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. 
There was a man and he had naught. 

There was an old man, and he had a calf. 

Bow, wow, wow ! 

Pussy-cat sits by the fire. 

Here am I, little Jumping Joan. 

There was an old woman lived under the hill. 
Simple Simon met a pieman. 

Sing a song of sixpence, a bag full of rye. 

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. 

Ride a cock horse. 

Little Miss Muffet. 

Three wise men of Gotham. 

There were two birds sat upon a stone. 

Bye, Baby Bunting. 

Little Polly Flinders. 

Tom, Tom. the piper s son. 

Jack and Jill went up the hill. 

A diller, a dollar. 

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? 

Pat a cake, pat a cake. Baker s man. 

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn. 

There was an old woman tossed in a blanket. 
Cold and raw the north winds blow. 

The man in the moon came down too soon. 
Four-and-twenty tailors. 

Lucy Locket lost her pocket. 

Little Tom Tucker. 

“To bed, to bed,” says Sleepy Head. 

Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John. 

High diddle diddle. 


The *wo gray kits. 

Rob and Richard. 

Is J n 'mith within? Yes, that he is. 

I hae a tie hen, the prettiest ever seen. 

When I was a little boy I lived by myself. 

Twas once upon a time when jenny Wren was young. 
How many days has my baby to play? 

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. 

Little King Boggen he built a fine hall. 

As I went to Bonner. 

Little Jack Horner. 

Miss Jane had a bag and a mouse was in it. 

The Queen of Hearts. 

Goosey, goosey, gander, where dost thou wander? 

See saw, Margery Daw. 

Daffy-down-dilly is now come to town. 

Cock, cock, cock, cock. 

The lion and the unicorn. 

Old King Cole. 

Mistress Mary, quite contrary. 

Bonny lass, pretty lass. 

Handy-spandy, Jacky dandy. 

Ding-dong-bell, the cat s in the well. 

This pig went to market. 

There were two blackbirds sitting on a hill. 

Cross patch, draw the latch. 

Old Mother Hubbard. 

Pease-porridge hot. 

Polly, put the kettle on. 

The sow came in with the saddle. 

Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree. 

A farmer went trotting upon his gray mare. 

There was an old woman sold puddings and pies. 

Old woman, old woman, shall we go a-shearing? 

My little old man and I fell out. 

Jack Sprat could eat no fat. 

There was an old woman, and what do you think? 
What's the news of the day? 

There was a crooked man. 

There was a piper had a cow. 

The man in the wilderness. 

Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark. 

As I was going to St. Ives. 

I had a little husband no bigger than my thumb. 

Great A, little a. 

Bat, bat, come under my hat. 

As I was going up Primrose Hill. 

There was a little boy went into a barn. 

When good King Arthur ruled his land. 

Jacky, come give me your fiddle. 

One, two, three, four, five. 

The north wind doth blow. 

You owe mg five shillings. 

There was a man in our town. 










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